drunken spittles of brian lynch, derek doublin, and ray prewitt. featuring the dirtiest leprachaun, casey scott and senor mudking russell kirschner although we are not sure where he went.

Tuesday, January 20, 2004

this is what happened to me this weekend....

victoria and myself arrive into austin @ 4:00 AM saturday morning driving her dad's suburban. i immediately start drinking. i realize that i forgot all my clothes in oklahoma. i try to wash the clothes i'm wearing but accidentally lock them in blynch's laundry room. now i have NO CLOTHES except for the lady bug halloween costume i brought down with me. i begin to fear that i will be forced to wear this lady bug costume ALL WEEKEND LONG.

i get stupid drunk and enjoy the site of damon trying to feed blynch a weird, rotten potato. while dylan falls asleep, we draw on his face with a sharpie.

i get about 2 hours of sleep and immediately get up to go drink some more. blynch and ray get the laundry room open with a screwdriver (i think) and i retrieve my clothes. at about 3:00 PM I score a .09 on the breathalyzer. i am disappointed and begin to think that my lack of sleep is contributing to me feeling drunker than i really am. during the test damon scores a .15, blynch and colby a .13, dylan and lee a .09, victoria a .08, and ray... well....ray scores a .06. ray is considered legal. RAY PREWITT IS THE ONLY PERSON UNDER THE LEGAL LIMIT.

after drinking we try to make a movie with ray and colby's cameras. i put on the lady bug costume and lee and I walk around the HEB waving to children. there we get some natural light and water. someone empties a half bottle of RED wine into victoria's dad's suburban. that makes me smile with anger. everyone gets really drunk but ray and i begin to hold back a little. colby interviews random strangers on camera about their sex life.

ray and i decide to go home to edit whatever nonsense we have filmed. everyone is now far more drunk than we are. we try to edit the movie but i know we are in trouble after colby gets kicked out of Barflys and everyone goes back to blynch's house. damon opens a beer onto my laptop, colby almost crashes through a window TWICE, victoria walks right through a scene we are trying to film and stands in front of the camera like it's a potted plant that needs to be watered, colby separates me from my hat because he thinks i'm afraid to loose my hair, chris steps on all the cords to my computer ripping them from the wall, etc. ray and i are about to cry.

we finish editing the movie and everything is better again. damon and i proceed to draw on dylan, colby, & victoria's face with a sharpie while they are sleeping. ray and blynch both team up and convince me that they drew on my face with a sharpie but it turns out they really didn't. they let me believe this for about 30 minutes. when i found out they didn't draw on my face, i begin to feel bad that damon and i have completely COVERED dylan's face with blue, red, and green markers. COMPLETELY COVERED. he looks like a Basquiat painting. damon and i decide to draw on our own faces as self punishment.

we sleep for about 4-5 hours. we wake up BROKEN. we eat lunch. we invent a drink called the BEAR TREAT and begin to get PLOWED again. the movie is screened at a theatre in the mall at midnight on sunday. a custodian locks the mall bathrooms so i piss in a plastic, potted plant in the middle of the food court. i feel really tripped out stumbling through an empty, closed mall all by myself while extremely drunk. what the hell kind of reality is this? i don't remember much after that and i don't remember watching the drunk film we made. we get back to blynch's and i get really, really mad at victoria. i get whiskey belligerent. i acost her for not being a good friend. i become mister-bad-mood-ladybug. i also get mad at the people who ate all the salt lick left overs i helped save. i eventually apologize and everyone's happy again. damon pretends to be andy rooney for a while. damon and i wrestle on the ground until i rip his underwear out of his pants. blynch, ray, and myself mess with colby's dreams by massaging his crotch with a mop while whispering, "Good dog. That's a good dog," into his ear.